My Escape
by TBear6000
Summary: Post CotBP, Pre DMC. After a very long day in which Will and Elizabeth have both had enough of "proper" society, they find a little escape is in order.


~

* * *

~ When I'm in your embrace this world seems a better place

And something happens to me that's some kind of wonderful ~

* * *

As was the custom, Will Turner was hard at work in his smithy even as the sun began to make its decent toward the horizon line. What was atypical on this occasion – at least since the young man in question had become affianced to Elizabeth Swann – was that he had labored all day and now into the early evening without taking a single break. Yet, though it pained him, he had a very good reason for not seeing his lady love at all this day. He was working on the last third of a large order to be delivered to Kingstown by month's end. However, if he completed the requisition a fortnight early, along with his standard commission he would receive an additional remuneration significant enough to finance the furnishing of the front parlor on the home he'd built for himself and Elizabeth.

Still, despite sufficient motivation, the work had been slow going and particularly grueling in the heat of this excessively hot and humid day. His back was stiff and throbbing; his arms ached – and when he thought of the salacious plans Elizabeth had detailed to him for the settee she'd chosen, that his labors would soon buy, the condition was not limited to his back alone.

Will brought the hammer down and, in his distraction, caught the edge of his thumb. He softly cursed, just as Admiral Livingston pulled open the smithy's door and walked inside. Seeing the pompous, pretentious, disdainful man it was all he could do to swallow a second, harsher expletive. Nevertheless, he put on his politest smile as he moved to greet him.

"Admiral, I trust you are here about your order," Will said, wiping the soot off his hand and offering it to the man.

The Admiral looked down at Will's proffered hand in open derision. Scoffing, he pushed past him. "Turner, just because you have displayed the arrogance to court above your station and you've somehow managed to entice Miss Swann into a lack of proper judgment, do not suppose for one instant that the rest of us will accept you so easily, or openly….or even at all."

"Ah."

Will really should have anticipated such a reaction but the man had caught him off guard. Receiving the cold shoulder from Port Royal's upper crust was nothing new to him, though people as openly offensive as Admiral Livingston were thankfully few and far between. Still, it wasn't exceptional to happen upon the occasional man who was openly hostile, either envious of Will's much coveted success with Elizabeth or threatened by the rise of a common craftsman to the ranks of the governor's future son-in-law. With the Admiral, it was a combination of the two: he had both desired Elizabeth's hand himself, for professional and personal reasons, and he resented and was threatened by the presence of an orphaned blacksmith at formal state affairs. It left him petulant and overtly acrimonious, loving to remind Will at such receptions that not so long ago just such an evening had found him not in the ballroom but out in the stables tending to his mother's carriage. He would always follow the comments by a thinly veiled suggestion that Will's place should still be found there. Elizabeth was just short of rude to the man herself, having no patience with those who insulted her fiancé. She advised Will to refuse his business but he reasoned that would only make the issue larger, and in any case scorn, contempt, and belittlement were nothing new to him; he'd been subject to them all of his life. Nevertheless, tonight, dealing with this insufferable man was the last thing he needed.

"Your sword is finished, Admiral," Will informed him, careful to keep his voice even. Reaching behind him, he extracted the proper case from the shelves.

"Of course, a man of my status intends to scrutinize your work rather than blindly paying for what may very well be inferior craftsmanship," he replied, intending to further offend and humiliate.

Will offered a tight – what anyone who knew him could easily identify as false – smile. "You're welcome to inspect the final product."

"Naturally," the Admiral sneered, grabbing for the case.

Will pulled it back just out of reach, adjoining, "A courtesy I extend to _all _of my clients, from Governor Swann to Joseph Eden, who guts fish for his livelihood."

That seemed to quiet the Admiral's haughtiness, at least to some degree. Still, by the time the man paid and left Will was ready to throw something. He was frustrated, exhausted, and out of sorts. There was only one thing that would ease his mood and alleviate the lingering bruise of the effrontery he'd just been forced to bear. He needed the warmth and comfort of his fiancée's arms.

He supposed it would be all right if he were to take a break…..Yes, it would simply _have_ to be. He was going to Elizabeth and nothing was going to stop him, not even the prenuptial assembly she was currently being subjected to.

* * *

Elizabeth had had her fill of shallow, insipid, proper ladies, and by nearly half past eight was longing to scream at the top of her lungs, if for nothing else than to see what sort of reaction that would achieve. It would have to be better than what she'd been sitting through all afternoon. Mary Edmonds, Cecily Brooke, and several of the other ladies from the leading families of Port Royal had gotten it into their silly little minds to give her a sort of a bridal tea to bestow gifts, offer advice, and generally celebrate her upcoming nuptials that were set to take place in less than a month's time. While their gifts, she had to admit, had been lovely, their advice was banal and often insulting, unknowingly or otherwise. Overall, it had been a deadly dull, tedious day where she'd been forced to suffer false and ignorant woman with a nod and a smile.

Her company, however, failed to share her opinion on the affair and were still in residence at the Governor's Manor these many hours later. Having just received renewed refreshments, no appearance of their taking leave was in sight. Didn't these women need to be home in their beds, requiring the proper amount of beauty sleep lest they melt? At least on this occasion, apparently not.

Elizabeth knew that most of them meant well, but still she was growing weary of their endless fascination at her coupling with one William Turner, blacksmith. Even Mary, who was one of her oldest friends and the closest thing she had other than Estrella to a female confidante, was having a difficult time disguising her alarm. Oh, she was careful – more so than the others – to keep her words encouraging and positive, a cheerful smile pasted on her face but, knowing her so many years, Elizabeth could see past the veneer to the lie beneath. She too thought Elizabeth was making a mistake. In everyone's eyes, her future husband simply wasn't a "smart match". What was wrong with them? Were they so blind they really could not perceive Will the way that she did, the way he truly _was_, or did they simply refuse to try to see the man beneath the profession?

A din of polite laughter drew Elizabeth's mind back to the here and now in time to observe a question directed at her.

"Won't you be concerned living so far outside the city? The Governor's Manor is removed as it is from the town proper. Being even further isolated will put you that much more at a disadvantage of enjoying the niceties of the city. And," she half whispered, "what shall you do in the event of another pirate attack?" It was said in just such a way that there was no doubt as to the speaker's view of Elizabeth's "unfortunate time at sea". Half the women of Port Royal still continued to think her sullied from her kidnapping and subsequent experience with pirates, either figuratively or literally.

"Now, now, Caroline," Louisa chimed in. "I'm sure Elizabeth will do fine, and consider that is very likely all they can afford."

Elizabeth scowled, about to protest, when Mary spoke up. "I, for one, think a seaside cottage is quaint. And I can't blame them for wishing to seek a more secluded location. A certain degree of privacy is ideal for the beginnings of a marriage."

"Yes, I quite agree," Augusta, the oldest at the soiree interjected. "Though our Elizabeth often forgoes convention, I see nothing wrong with this particular choice."

"Yes, yes, quite," Caroline assented, as concurring with Augusta was unquestionably the proper thing to do, whether one was actually of the same mind or not. "But don't you find it odd, Elizabeth, Mister Turner's…._unusual_ involvement in the creation of your home."

"On the contrary, I think it ideal that my future husband has had such a hand in conceiving and constructing our home," Elizabeth argued. "Will made certain that everything was done exactly to my liking the way a stranger never could, or would, have. His continued interest in finishing the interior exactly to my taste and desires demonstrates his affection and devotion. I love that my fiancé shows such an enthusiasm in being directly and personally involved in every aspect of our married life."

"True," Mary jumped in to agree. "So many husbands can't be bothered with such triflings as home and hearth. His interest proves William's attachment, and I believe confirms what a good husband and father he will make."

"Those are my sentiments exactly, Mary," Elizabeth nodded triumphantly.

As the women began to launch into a discussion of the merits of men's involvement, however limited, in domestic manners or if such concerns should be left exclusively to the women of the house, Elizabeth got up and crossed to the punchbowl, unable to take another moment of such conversation.

Pouring herself a glass, she turned to stand with her back to the window, her eyes drifting toward the clock on the mantelpiece. It was then that she began to hear a soft tinkling, similar to the sound of fork and knife hitting against a dinner plate. Curious, she looked about her, hearing the sound again, this time combined with a gentle rustling. Determining the noise emanated from the direction of the closed window, she spun about in time to see a handful of pebbles rain down in a clinking bevy against the glass.

Reaching over and flinging the window open, she heard a whispered pronouncement of her name. A smile of astounded elation danced across her lips. She made a discreet gesture toward the kitchen for the benefit of her clandestine visitor, than pulled the window closed, facing her guests once more.

Clearing her throat, Elizabeth announced, "I find this punch isn't at all to my liking. If you'll excuse me, I'll just go visit the kitchen myself to personally see to it that it's made over again to our usual standard."

Augusta nodded her approval at Elizabeth taking such control of household manners and exhibiting a firm hand with help who had shown signs of slacking. The others followed her led, and Elizabeth was granted the smooth exit she had hoped for.

She calmly crept from the room, then once out of sight all but ran to the kitchen. Bursting through the door of the servant's entrance, she hustled out into the sultry midevening air.

"Will," Elizabeth called, bounding over to where he hid and pulling him out from beneath the shadows of the lush palm.

The servants ignored them, turning a blind eye. This certainly wasn't the first time they had seen their young mistress meeting with her fiancé outside their quarters. She often used this entrance to steal in and out of the house as she pleased, even occasionally in the dark of night. Every last one of them knew it was best to keep quiet on such matters and avoid the uproar that would ensue should the governor find out of his daughter's indiscretions. And, in many of their minds, he had no one to blame but himself if her improprieties ever did come to light. The young woman had said time and time again how she wished to be married as soon as possible. It was largely due to the governor's insistence, as well as her young man's lack of funds – but the governor could've helped them there – that prevented it. When gossiping amongst themselves, many of the female servants were wont to say if while under the spell of the handsome Mister Turner Miss Swann found herself unable to wait for proper wedlock she could hardly be blamed; with a betrothed such as he what woman could be held to a standard of maidenly denial?

Ignoring all other eyes but that of her fiancé, Elizabeth asked in wonder, "Will, what are you doing here?" His shirtsleeves were still rolled up from laboring at the forge, making it obvious he had come from the smithy with a quickness. "I thought you were to be busy with work all day and into the evening?"

She knew all about the extra commission and his designs for it. After first seeing their new home, she'd told him of her plan, after they were wed, to christen every room of the house with their lovemaking. Knowing that she'd chosen the plush softness of their soon-to-be settee as the location for their front parlor dalliance, Will had assured her he would be happily working into the wee hours of the morning to make that fantasy into a reality. To find him here now instead was a surprise, though a pleasant one.

"I was," he replied, "but I thought one little break couldn't hurt." Without yet dampening their meeting with the full story of what had happened, he truthfully told her, "I missed you."

Her smile at his words was as bright as the morning sun, and he knew he'd made the right decision. Just looking at her now, the way her face shone and her eyes lit up as they gazed into his, he already felt like a new man.

"Of course it won't hurt. And I've missed you too, terribly. I only wish I'd known you were coming. I might've done something more to rid myself of the fine ladies of Port Royal," she said in a mockingly proper intonation.

"Yes," he smiled. "I hadn't guessed they'd still be here."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It's been unspeakably dreary. The presents were one thing, given and graciously received with a swiftness that would've left me alone by now. It's their talking that seems to go on nonstop."

At this, Will laughed. "What are they talking of?"

"Of marriage. Those who are already wed are offering their advice on what to expect of the union."

"Oh?" he asked, his interest piqued. At this point, thoughts of their particularly union led both Will and Elizabeth to only one thing.

"It's nothing like that," she told him laughingly. "I only wish it were; it would've made for a far more interesting day. No, they've been talking of marriage, and children, and how to 'properly run a home'."

"And there's nothing proper about you and I, is there?" Will teased, looping his arms about her waist.

His words were light, but there was something in his tone that gave Elizabeth pause. There was more to his sudden appearance than he was letting on, but she would get it out of him eventually. For now, she would let it pass.

"Well, I've never sought propriety or convention, Will, so it matters very little to me if that _is_ true," was her simple reply.

He kissed her then, a brief but soft and sweet meeting of their lips.

Staying close enough that his warm breath teased her still open mouth, he whispered, "Come away with me."

"Now?"

Her voice was pure dumbfoundment, bringing an easy smile to his lips. "Yes, now. Let's run away together for a bit. I need to see you, to be with you."

Something in the way he made the declaration was so raw and exposed, evidencing a bare need that only she could fill. She glanced for a moment back toward the house, thinking of all the proper women, waiting properly inside. By the time she turned back to Will, her mind was made up, though she gave the warning, "You realize the trouble we're likely to get into?"

"Of course – which should make you like it all the more," he answered knowingly.

Elizabeth laughed, soft and low, at that. "How well you know me. But you make it sound as if I require some great debauchery to find a thrill."

"No," Will replied roguishly, pressing her closer to him, "I know _exactly_ what you require." And he did. At this point in their courtship they were all but lovers – and, on more than one occasion, very nearly that. By now he knew exactly how to kiss her, where to touch her, to turn her to pouty in his hands.

At his suggestive statement, her eyes sparkled with excitement and desire. "Then let's not waste any more time and you can show me."

They took off through their secret path of escape across the back of the grounds, but came to a halt when Elizabeth tugged Will in the direction of town and he simultaneously pulled her toward the opposite trail.

She looked up at him in unspoken confusion. "The beach is closer," he told her in answer. "And the smithy is the first place they'll look for you."

Realizing the truth of his statement, and just as happy to go to their special beach – the site of their future home – she altered her course and followed his lead.

As soon as they were off her father's property, they slowed their steps, free to carelessly walk the footworn path surrounded by the protection of the palms, wild shrubbery, and thick vegetation.

Elizabeth glanced over at Will. Despite his amicable silence, she was keenly aware that something had bothered him tonight, sending him there into her arms in spite of the work there was to be done and the considerable impropriety of a clandestine meeting during her own engagement party.

"What is the matter, Will?" she gently asked him. "What happened?"

He almost told her 'nothing', well ready to forget the earlier slight and now feeling a bit of a fool for allowing it to affect him so. But she knew him too well to accept such an answer and she deserved nothing less than the truth, even if on this occasion it would put a damper on the happiness of the night.

"Admiral Livingston stopped by the shop to pick up his sword."

She made a pitying little sound, well knowing where the story would go from here. Running her hand down his bare forearm to find his, she threaded their fingers together. "What did he say, the insufferable man?"

Warmth suffused him at her words, her touch, her understanding, and he couldn't resist bending and placing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. "Oh, just some things about my presumption to court someone so high above me, and how no one else will ever accept me. Generally belittling remarks, wisely directed toward me and not at you, seeing as we were in a building filled with weaponry."

"I can not comprehend why he insists on being so discourteous to you," she said angrily.

"I can, my love. He resents me for stepping out of 'my place'. And he wanted you for himself." She opened her mouth to speak to both reasons, but he skillfully put the subject to an end. "It doesn't matter now. I have you here by my side, and all seems right with the world once again."

She tenderly squeezed his hand and, by silent agreement, they spoke of happier things – mainly the progress on their home and their upcoming wedding – until they reached the familiar white sands. At the edge of their beach, they both removed their shoes and Will pulled off his socks to walk barefoot in the cool sand.

Later the refreshment of the sea might call to them, but for now they were content to find a spot to rest just above the water's edge. They both sat down upon the sand, Will depositing their discarded footwear off to the side just as Elizabeth quickly set off to becoming as deliciously barelegged as he. Bending her leg at the knee, she hiked up her layers of skirt to mid-thigh and began removing her stockings. At this stage in their relationship, Will didn't even pretend to look away, gazing intently at her soft, smooth leg with an open hunger. That yearning, however, was tempered when he witnessed the angry scarlet welt running along the circumference of her thigh.

Rolling up the silk stockings and laying them alongside their forgotten shoes, Elizabeth looked up to see the alarm and concern in Will's eyes. Confused, she followed the direction of his gaze to her leg, still baffled as to what was troubling him.

Will wordlessly moved to sit at her feet, extending his hand and tentatively running his forefinger along the outer edge of the mark. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

Honestly, she hadn't even noticed the mark left behind from her stockings. The skin was slightly tender, but it was such a routine part of dressing as a proper lady that she barely paid it notice anymore. Still, his sweet concern touched her heart. "It's all right, truly," she assured him.

"No, it isn't. No one should ever make you wear something that physically pains you."

Heaven help him, she thought, when he one day viewed the marks left behind on her torso after wearing a corset.

Will began gently rubbing his fingers across the mark, massaging and kneading the inflamed skin. It was then that Elizabeth amended her earlier thought. If he was similarly inclined to rub away such marks left behind on her stomach and chest, she would wear a corset everyday simply for the pleasure of what would follow.

"Is that better?" Will asked, breaking into her thoughts as he continued to stroke her thigh.

"Yes," Elizabeth whispered. "Oh yes."

He hadn't started out with sexual intent, he truly hadn't. Something about seeing the deep red mark left behind from her concession to propriety made his heart ache. All he'd plan to do was soothe her tender skin, rub the redness away. But once his hands were upon her body and her eyes fell closed, all such plans flew out the window.

Gentle massaging turned to seductively caressing, his hand straying from the now forgotten mark to stroke down the length of her leg to her ankle and back up again. Just as his hand reached her knee, he bent and joined his lips to hers in a kiss she fervently returned.

The kiss quickly intensified into a passionate melding of mouths and tongues as Will leaned further into Elizabeth. With a sigh, she readily lay back against the sand in clear invitation. The way that she responded to him, so eager and yearning and desirous was more than he could take. His caressing hand never breaking contact with her soft warm skin, he followed her down, his body covering hers as he effectively insinuated himself between the bent leg he continued to stroke and the other that still lie straight upon the sand.

He lightly nipped her lower lip to her appreciative moan. "You're feeling especially amorous tonight," she breathlessly managed before he went in for another rapacious kiss.

"Can you blame me after the view I was just treated to?" Will answered several moments of feverish kissing later.

It took Elizabeth a few seconds to realize what he was speaking of, so fogged was her mind with desire. "You've seen my legs before," she pointed out, her arms tightening around him, drawing him closer so that there wasn't so much as a breath between them from head to toe. "Touched them, too."

"Yes," he grinned mischievously, crushing his lips to hers once more. "But there's something about the sand, and the waves, and this heat," he answered in between peppering her face with kisses, following along the line of her jaw with his mouth. "It's sensual and….carnal. It makes you more aware of your body."

"And?" she asked, the word chocking to a lustful whimper as he found the tender spot just beneath her ear and scraped his teeth across it, his tongue following with a teasing lick.

He pulled back to look at her. "Being aware of my body makes me all the more aware of yours," Will licentiously admitted as he made love to her mouth once more. Elizabeth was like hot, liquid fire beneath him and he lost himself further in her.

His lips left hers to blaze a biting trail down her neck, and her hands fisted into his hair.

Whatever else had happened that day – Admiral Livingston and the others like him who wanted to belittle Will and make him feel something less than the wonderful man he was, the silly women back at her home who had probably never experienced so much as an instant of genuine passion in their entire lifetimes – none of it mattered. It all faded away except the wonder of the two of them together, the intense connection they had that went beyond words to simply feeling. And she felt all right, alive and excited and completely afire.

His hand slipped beneath her skirts, finding her shift and sliding underneath that to seek her warm softness beneath. As his fingers caressed their way up her thigh, his mouth found the pulse point of her throat, sucking at the tender skin. She spoke his name in a helpless, aroused whisper and arched toward him, encouraging, inciting him. His teeth bit enticingly into her neck in response and his fingers drifted further beneath her shift. Her toes curled into the sand as she drew her other leg up, surrounding him, entrapping him against her. When his hand reached her bare hip she made a desperate little gasp and her knees involuntarily gripped his waist. He let out a rough groan at her movement, but seemed to all at once become aware of what they were doing.

With concentrated effort, Will withdrew his hand from beneath her shift, removing his lips from her neck to gaze down upon her. They both unconsciously recognized they'd reached the point of no return and, though stopping themselves was nearly painful, they did so.

"I….I didn't mean for this to happen…." he told her, still struggling for proper breath.

He knew that she as much as he longed to finish what they'd started. His intention hadn't been to seduce and leave her frustrated, but to instead soothe her. Yet both of them were far from it.

Elizabeth smiled alluringly. "You swore you knew what I required to find a thrill. You were just demonstrating the point."

His lips curled up on one side as they inched toward hers once more. "Is that what I was doing?"

"Mmm-hmm." Her fingers were back in his hair as her body strained toward his – of her own accord or not, he wasn't certain.

"How I want you, Elizabeth," he murmured, pressing his mouth to hers one last time before rolling away from her.

They lay for several long moments, staring up at the stars quickly overtaking the rapidly darkening sky. When he felt it was safe once again, Will reached for Elizabeth, drawing her close against his side.

She felt so happy, so utterly content lying in his arms and she snuggled into him, laying her head to his chest and taking his hand in hers, playing at his fingers. Turning his hand over, she caressed his palm, tracing his scar with her finger then setting her matching one against it, clasping their hands.

"Do you still think of it?" she softly asked him.

He knew instantly what she spoke of. "From time to time." Though it had been almost a year, it was still as vivid in his mind as if it happened only yesterday. "I remember the terror of it, seeing you taken, waking up the next morning and realizing it wasn't just a nightmare. Then the wondering, the waiting…..The whole time as we sailed to Tortuga, and then the Isle de Muerta, you never left my mind – where you were, what they'd done to you, if they were….." His face clouded over thinking of anyone violating her so. "…..hurting you."

"I wouldn't have let them." He said nothing in response, but she knew his silence bespoke the difficult truth that she wouldn't have had a choice. Maybe, maybe not, but she certainly would have tried. "Before I knew of the curse, I cornered Barbossa in his cabin and stabbed him. Had he been human, it would have killed him."

Will smiled at that. Thinking of her now, sparing at swords with him, he had no doubt of her lethalness – in more ways than one. "That's my Elizabeth."

"I don't take capture lightly; never without a fight. And no man will ever put his hands on me but you…..only your hands, always your hands – and frequently." She cuddled further against him, burrowing her face into his shoulder and breathing him in. "Do you feel better now, my darling? Have I assuaged the insult you endured?"

"As only you can. And what of you? Has the sense of suffocation lessoned? Do you feel released, contented, and pleased once more?"

"_Almost_ entirely," Elizabeth answered seductively, placing an achingly soft kiss to his neck.

Will shivered. "No more of that now. We still have to get you back unnoticed." His head now cleared of both gloom and lust, he clearly saw the error of judgment in whisking her away this evening. "Although I'm afraid such attempts will be too little too late at this point. It could hardly have escaped the notice of the women at your gathering that you never returned with their punch," he told her wryly.

Elizabeth pushed off of him up into a sitting position, and he joined her, helping her to her feet.

"You needn't worry," she assured him. "Estrella will have made my excuses. She's well accustomed to it by now whenever I turn up missing."

Will shook his head, at himself as much as her. "I shudder to imagine what that woman must believe of us."

"I know exactly what she believes of us. Were it only true, you _would_ be shuddering, but in a far more pleasurable manner, I guarantee."

"I've no doubt of it," he said, pulling her against him. "…..But so would you."

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, melting into his embrace. "Since half the household already believes it, we might as well – "

"But _I_ know the truth. I won't take advantage of you, in any way." It was on the tip of her tongue to say he couldn't possibly 'take advantage' when she was all but begging, but she refrained. Still, from the way his eyes darkened, he seemed to have read her mind. "Three more weeks. In there," he said, pointing to their house in the near distance – more specifically to their second floor bedroom. "Then I promise to make you shudder all night and into the morning."

Her breath caught at the provocative promise. "William Turner, how you've changed."

He smiled. "I've always thought it; I just wasn't free to say it. I didn't feel I had the right to."

"But now you do."

"Now I do, and now you're mine." The connection between finally living his dreams and at last expressing his feelings aloud wasn't lost on him.

"I am," Elizabeth agreed, joining their hands as they began to make their way back to the Governor's Manor, her home for but a few weeks more.

"Thank you for being my escape, for a little while."

Picking up on the 'little while', she questioned, "Surely you don't mean to start work again once you return to the smithy?"

"I do." At her concerned look, Will added, "Only for an hour or two more."

Elizabeth knew why he labored so. If she had but a single whispered wish, he would go to the ends of the earth to grant it. She shook her head in wonder. But that endless, tireless devotion was simply a part of who he was. "You're very serious about having that settee, aren't you?" she said sweetly.

"I'm very serious about having _you_ upon it."

Laughing, Elizabeth nestled against his side, certain she'd never loved her liberated Will more than in this moment.

* * *

AN: Frequent readers of my stories know that I like to make connections amongst them. On that note, some of the secondary characters in this story are "old friends" from past tales. Cecily Brooke appeared briefly in **Longing**, Elizabeth's friendship with Mary Edmonds shows up in both **Longing** and **Courtship**. And while Admiral Livingston himself is a new character, the episode with his mother did occur in **Longing**.


End file.
